Author's note: Thank you to Eagedwin for the review! I really do appreciate it!

July 1914

Sybil picked up the paper as her father put it down on the breakfast table.

'Is this archduke very important then?' she asked curiously, reading the headlines and the start of the lead article. 'I mean I know it's terribly shocking and very sad for his family and friends, but I've never heard of him before. I'm surprised that his assassination is headline news here.'

'He was the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, so yes, you could say he was quite important,' Robert replied, dryly.

'I think we might be hearing about it for a while longer yet, darling,' Matthew added, sipping his coffee.

'Why?' Sybil asked, looking up from the paper at her beloved sitting across the table from her.

'Because of the tangled web of European politics. It's all about which countries have pacts with which other countries,' Matthew explained, delighted that his bride-to-be was showing an interest in current affairs. 'I suspect diplomats all over Europe will be scrambling to soothe ruffled feathers and make sure this doesn't escalate into anything serious.'

'I wonder if Shrimpie is involved in any of this,' Robert mused as he gathered a forkful of kedgeree.

'It won't affect us, though, will it, all this quarrelling in Europe?' Sybil asked, picking up a slice of toast.

'Hopefully not. Not if they manage to avoid too much hostility. I think Austria needs to save a little face, but if they can come to an agreement, it will all be just a storm in a teacup,' Matthew continued. 'The last thing any civilised nation wants is a war.'

'A war?' Sybil said, looking alarmed. 'Do you really think it could come to that? A war in Europe?'

'I should think Shrimpie and his ilk will manage to sort it all out before it comes to that,' Robert said, confidently.

'Well, Germany will certainly side with Austria, and there is the Triple Entente with us, France and Russia,' Matthew said, thoughtfully. 'It does have the potential to get messy if the powers that be don't tread carefully.'

'So, there could be a war?' Sybil pressed, putting the paper down. 'Surely, it won't come to that?'

'Don't you worry about it, my darling girl. If there is, it will be merely a scuffle involving the Central Powers flexing their muscles to put the Serbs in their place. Nothing to trouble the British Empire,' Robert said, reassuringly. 'You should spend your time thinking about your wedding, instead. Don't you agree, Matthew?'

'Well, I certainly can't wait for us to be married, Sybil,' Matthew said, smiling at his intended. 'But I do like to listen to you debating international politics at the breakfast table. I find it quite refreshing, not to mention stimulating.'

'Well, if women were in charge, I'm quite sure there wouldn't be any wars,' Sybil observed, looking between her father and her fiancé. 'But we can't be in charge until we can run for office, and the first step to that must be winning us the vote. So, I suppose I shall simply have to turn my attention to that in between setting the date and sorting out my trousseau.'

Robert sighed in resignation as Matthew grinned at Sybil, enjoying the passion lighting up her face.

'Mary?' Edith said tentatively as she came out of her room to see her sister walking past, ready to leave the house.

Mary glanced at her without breaking stride or saying a word.

'Have you told Mama?' Edith asked, scurrying after her sister.

Mary pursed her lips, leaving Edith to stew for a few delicious minutes. 'No, not yet.'

'But you intend to?'

'I haven't decided yet.'

'Please don't tell her.'

Mary huffed a small laugh, grimly amused by Edith's attempts to save face. 'Give me one good reason why I shouldn't.'

'Because she doesn't need to know. I'm sorry, I am.'

Mary stopped walking and whipped around, forcing Edith to stop abruptly before she collided with her.

'Sorry?'

'Yes. I'm sorry.'

'Sorry doesn't begin to cut the mustard, Edith,' Mary hissed, tight-lipped. 'Not even nearly.'

'Well, what do you want me to say?' Edith snapped and then visibly tried to rein in her annoyance, mindful that she was asking Mary to do her a kindness that her sister would not believe she deserved.

'Do you know what your letter did? Apart from sullying my reputation? Hmm?' Mary asked, looming over Edith.

'Very little, I should imagine,' Edith retorted, irritation flaring up in her despite her best intentions.

'Well, that's where you're wrong. You labelled me a slut, so certain men now think I am fair game for their advances,' Mary said, feeling anger vibrating in her chest.

'No, they don't. I'm sure that's not true. You're just being melodramatic now,' Edith asserted, not believing that. It was simply classic Mary making herself the centre of attention again.

'Percy Allingham,' Mary snapped.

'What?'

'Percy Allingham thought he could have me. He cornered me on a terrace during a ball, grabbed me between my legs and made a quite vulgar statement about what he was going to do to me,' Mary growled, her voice low and tight. 'All because of you and your nasty little letter with its nasty little insinuations.'

Edith stared at her, a tiny arrow of guilt darting through her.

'He would have raped me too if I hadn't kneed him in his privates.'

'You didn't!' Edith breathed, impressed despite herself that Mary had apparently fought off the tall, broad, cocksure Percy Allingham.

'I did. Because I will not allow another man to do to me what Pamuk did. Especially when he feels entitled to do so because of scurrilous rumours about my character,' Mary said, fixing Edith with a look of loathing.

Edith said nothing, unwilling to shoulder the blame for something that may or may not have happened because of her letter.

'You have caused me more trouble than you will ever know, Edith, so I think it's only fair for me to leave you to worry about if and when I tell Mama what a vicious little viper she's been clasping to her bosom all this time,' Mary said, coldly.

Edith swallowed, determined not to give Mary the satisfaction of knowing how worried she was about her mother's reaction to finding out she had written that damned letter. She was beginning to wish she'd never put pen to paper in the first place.

'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lunch appointment,' Mary said frostily, giving Edith one last look of disgust and then continuing on her way.

'How was lunch with Evelyn? Is he well?' Cora asked when Mary returned to the house.

'He's a little downcast, actually,' Mary replied, sitting gracefully on one of the wing-backed chairs in the drawing room.

'Oh, dear. Why's that then?'

'It's all off between him and Angela Semphill,' Mary said, unable to keep the satisfaction from her voice.

'Really? But I thought that was all fixed bar the ink on the marriage certificate,' Cora said, perking up, her embroidery forgotten in her lap at the news of an eligible bachelor being back on the market.

'No, Evelyn called it off. It was his decision, and he has no regrets, but he knows he has disappointed his mother somewhat. She was rather keen on him marrying Angela because of her friendship with her mother.'

'Hmm, so Evelyn Napier is a free man once more,' Cora said, thoughtfully.

Mary narrowed her eyes at her mother. 'Don't, Mama.'

'What?'

'I can practically hear the cogs turning in your mind. I will not marry Evelyn.'

'Oh, of course, you won't, Mary. You've made that perfectly clear on a number of occasions. I wasn't thinking of you,' Cora said, only just managing not to give in to the unladylike urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she turned her attention to her middle daughter, sitting quietly trying not to attract any attention to herself. 'Edith, what do you think of the Honourable Evelyn Napier?'

Edith looked at her mother, startled by the question. 'Um, well, I don't really know him. He's more Mary's friend than mine. I've only met him a couple of times.'

'You can't be serious, Mama? Evelyn and Edith?' Mary squawked, gaping at her mother.

'Why not? He has to marry someone. You don't want him, but he's a perfectly nice and very respectable young man. I was just thinking that perhaps he might be a good match for Edith,' Cora said, completely unruffled.

'Oh, no. No, no, no,' Mary said firmly, shaking her head. 'No, definitely not.'

Edith bristled, despite not wanting to aggravate Mary unnecessarily given the information she was dangling over her head.

'Why ever not? You haven't changed your mind about considering him as a suitor, have you? You've just said you haven't,' Cora pointed out, a gleam appearing in her eye.

'No, I have not. But Evelyn and Edith, that is a dreadful idea. Terrible,' Mary said, shooting a look of dislike at her sister.

'Oh, come now, Mary. I know he is your friend, but you can't lay claim to him when you don't want him for yourself,' Cora chastised.

'Yes, you don't know that he wouldn't be interested in me,' Edith piped up, feeling brave for a moment.

'Oh, but I do. You see Evelyn values loyalty. He's very keen on it. Very keen. In fact, it's the one thing he would value the most in his relationships. He's very loyal to his friends and family and if you cross that line, he simply won't countenance mixing with you anymore. That's one of the reasons he broke with Angela because she was so very rude to many of his friends. Including me,' Mary said, looking pointedly at Edith.

'And that is very admirable, but I don't see why that precludes a potential attachment to Edith,' Cora said, a faint frown on her face as she looked back and forth between her daughters. Something seemed amiss between them, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.

'Well, you said it yourself, Mama. Evelyn is a good friend of mine. He has a strong loyalty to me, and he knows full well that Edith and I don't see eye to eye on many issues,' Mary continued, never taking her eyes off her sister. 'I believe he would find it very simple to choose between us. And he would not choose Edith.'

'Well, he'd hardly be choosing between you, would he?' Cora protested. 'He doesn't have to stop being your friend if he marries your sister.'

'Yes, he would,' Mary said, baldly. 'I believe he knows that, too. He has first-hand knowledge of certain… issues between me and Edith, and I am firmly of the opinion that he values my friendship too highly to jeopardise it.'

Edith paled, guessing from Mary's words that Evelyn Napier was the one who told her who had written the letter to the Turkish ambassador.

'Certain issues?' Cora repeated, her frown deepening. 'What issues?'

'It's nothing I wish to discuss at the moment, Mama. Suffice it to say that I don't believe Edith would be able to entice Evelyn into any kind of attachment, let alone marriage,' Mary said, giving Edith one last fierce look before facing her mother again.

Cora gazed at her eldest, puzzled by what she could mean.

'I don't think we'd be suited anyway, Mama,' Edith said, her cheeks flushed with colour, sneaking a wary glance at her sister. 'Any friend of Mary's is certainly not someone I would wish to spend a great deal of time with.'

'Hmm, well, we'll see,' Cora said, suspicious that something unsaid was going on between her daughters, but not willing to face an argument, not when she felt so tired all the time. 'I doubt Evelyn will remain unattached for very long, though, Mary. You might have to learn to share his friendship with another woman.'

'Yes, but not Edith,' Mary said, crisply.

Edith picked up her book and bent her head over it, trying and failing to concentrate on it, her anger and embarrassment battling each other for supremacy.

Grantham House

St James's Square

London

4th July 1914

Tom, my darling boy,

I'm coming home! You may already know this because I'm sure Carson has sent word back to Mrs Hughes, but I couldn't resist writing to tell you.

I can't wait to see you, my love. Please try your very best not to be busy when we return on Friday. I shall need you to be able to spend at least several hours kissing me, holding me in your arms and – goodness, I am all a-quiver at the mere thought of it – taking me to bed.

In fact, I think perhaps I should enlist Anna's help in sneaking out to spend the night with you again. It has been too long since I felt your lips on mine, my darling. I need to be with you. Lord, how I miss you.

How are things with you? All anyone talks about here at every ball and every dinner is the death of the archduke and his wife. It's obviously a terrible thing, but I am weary of it as a topic of conversation now.

Only six more days until we are reunited, my darling! I am counting every second.

I must go now. I am talking a walk with my sisters, so I shall sneak this into a post box then.

I love you so very much, darling. I simply can't wait to see you! Be warned, I shall pepper your handsome face with kisses at the first opportunity and there's nothing you can do to stop me! I shan't be denied!

Sending you big kisses and squeezes, my love.

Your ever loving girl,

M

xxxxxxxxxx

Sybil glanced over her shoulder at Edith trailing disconsolately several yards behind her and Mary as they took an afternoon stroll around St James' Park.

'Have you two fallen out again?' she asked, turning back to Mary.

'You could say that. But it would be the understatement of the year,' Mary said, wryly.

'Come on then. Tell me what's happened,' Sybil said with a sigh, wondering if her sisters were ever going to be able to co-exist peacefully.

Mary pressed her lips together, feeling the anger rise up in her yet again. 'Edith wrote the letter.'

'What letter?'

'The letter. The letter to the Turkish ambassador telling him Kemal Pamuk "died in the arms of a slut" as she so eloquently put it,' Mary said, keeping her voice low.

Sybil stopped dead, staring at her, shocked. 'What?'

Mary tugged at her arm, pulling her onwards. 'Don't stop walking. I don't want her to catch up with us.'

'Edith started those rumours about you?' Sybil asked in disbelief. 'Edith?'

'Yes.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes. Evelyn found out the truth and told me.'

'She actually wrote to the Turkish ambassador?'

'Yes.'

'But… why?'

'Because she's a nasty, vicious, jealous, bitter, vindictive wretch, that's why' Mary said with feeling.

'But I don't understand. Why on earth would she do such a terrible thing?' Sybil asked, confused.

'Why indeed? Apparently, in her tiny, twisted mind, I have wronged and belittled her so much that I deserve to be thrown to the wolves,' Mary replied, bitterly.

'But… but why do something like that?' Sybil repeated, struggling to understand the depths of hatred Edith must feel for her own sister to feel the need to burn her reputation like that.

'I don't know, Sybil! You'd have to ask her. Only… don't. Don't ask her. I don't want her to know that you know about any of this.'

'Why not?'

'Because… because it would break Mama's heart if you and Edith were at odds as well as me and Edith.'

'Oh, Mary, I'm so sorry,' Sybil said, laying her hand on her sister's arm.

'Well, it's not a surprise that she doesn't like me – and believe me, the feeling is entirely mutual – but I am surprised that she hates me quite that much,' Mary said, quietly. 'If it was revenge she was after for some imagined slight, she's more than had her pound of flesh. I don't believe I've ever done anything to her as awful as what she's put me through by writing that letter.'

'No, I don't believe you have,' Sybil agreed, still hardly able to believe Edith was the one behind Mary's recent misfortunes.

'Look out!' a shout came just as a young man careened into them, sending them spinning apart.

'Sorry, sorry. In a dreadful hurry. Sorry,' he shouted over his shoulder as he continued on his way, heading towards Whitehall.

Edith ran up to them, steadying Sybil. 'Are you all right?' she asked in concern.

'Um, yes, I think so,' Sybil said, shaken up. 'What about you, Mary?'

'Er, yes, yes,' Mary replied, equally shaken by the unexpected contact.

'I think he dropped something,' Edith said, bending down, picking up a letter from the ground. She looked at the front of it and frowned. 'That's odd. It's addressed to T Branson at Downton Abbey.'

Mary felt her heart stop in her chest at the sight of her letter to Tom in Edith's hand, shock freezing her to the spot.

Edith looked up at her sisters, seeing a flush on both of their faces. Confused, she glanced from one to the other.

'Is one of you writing to Branson?'

'I am,' Sybil said as quick as a flash, snatching the letter from Edith's hand, seeing Mary swivel her head in her direction out of the corner of her eye.

Edith frowned, completely wrong-footed by this development. 'Why are you writing to Branson?'

'Well, I'm not writing to him exactly,' Sybil gabbled, determinedly not looking at Mary. 'I gathered up a few political pamphlets that I thought he might find interesting, so I thought I'd send them to him.'

'Pamphlets?' Edith echoed, dubiously.

'Yes.'

Edith peered at the envelope in Sybil's hand. 'It doesn't look very thick to have pamphlets in it.'

'No, well, um, no, there's only one in there, that's why,' Sybil improvised.

'Couldn't you just have given it to him when we go home?'

'Well, I thought it was interesting and I… I had a stamp,' Sybil said, lamely.

'Does Matthew know you're sending pamphlets to Branson? Or Papa?' Edith probed, troubled by this turn of events.

'No. And I'd rather you didn't tell them. I know they'd only tell me not to. Well, Papa would anyway,' Sybil said, flicking a glance at Mary, drawing her into this little piece of playacting. 'Either of you. Please don't say anything. Promise me.'

'We won't, darling. Will we, Edith?' Mary said quickly, leaping in to make the lie more believable.

Edith glanced between them again. 'No, we won't,' she said, finally. 'But you're engaged, Sybil. I don't think you should be sending missives to other men. You shouldn't be corresponding with Branson anyway, but certainly not now you have a fiancé. Not without asking his permission anyway.'

'Asking his permission?' Mary repeated, annoyed by that. 'She's not Matthew's property. She can do what she likes.'

'I'm just saying that I think it's inappropriate for her to be corresponding with the chauffeur. Don't tell me you disagree with that because I shan't believe you,' Edith said, huffily.

'Well, I won't need to send Branson any pamphlets anymore soon, will I, because we'll be back home in less than a week,' Sybil said, trying to bring this conversation to an end.

'No, I suppose not,' Edith said, eyeing her younger sister with some concern. 'I'm just saying you should have a care with your reputation, Sybil. It would be very easy for someone to jump to the wrong conclusion.'

Mary gave an unladylike snort. 'How very true that is,' she said, glaring at Edith.

Edith clenched her jaw, registering the comment but declining to respond. She didn't want Sybil to know anything about this sorry business of the letter.

'Well, shall we go home or continue with our walk?' she said, turning to Sybil.

'Continue. I need to find a post box and send this off,' Sybil replied, raising the letter to Tom slightly.

'Right, well, let's go then,' Edith said, walking away from her sisters, reluctant to spend any more time with Mary.

Sybil watched her go and then turned to wink at Mary. 'Phew. I think we got away with that,' she whispered, her eyes glinting.

'Oh, heavens, thank you. Thank you,' Mary breathed, clutching Sybil's hand. 'You're an angel.'

'Well, I couldn't have her discovering your secret, could I? Not when she's apparently already done her utmost to destroy your reputation,' Sybil said, waggling her eyebrows. 'Heaven knows what she'd do with this incendiary information.'

'Are you coming?' Edith called from about ten yards away, halting on the path, looking back at them expectantly.

'Yes, we're coming!' Sybil called back. She glanced over at Mary. 'Come on. I need to post your billet doux for you.'

Mary smiled and nodded, walking alongside her sister, her heart still thumping at how close Edith had come to discovering her affair with Tom. If she hadn't believed Sybil about the pamphlets, and she'd opened the letter, the game would have been well and truly up.

'That was a close call with Edith earlier,' Sybil said that night as she brushed Mary's hair.

'Too close,' Mary agreed with feeling. 'If it hadn't been for your quick thinking…'

'Just make sure you don't drop another letter to him. I'm not sure my nerves could stand it,' Sybil joked, smiling at her sister in the mirror.

'I hadn't realised I'd dropped that one until she picked it up,' Mary said, recalling the sick feeling she'd had in the pit of her stomach when she'd seen her letter to Tom in Edith's hand.

Sybil swept the brush through Mary's hair again, eyeing her in the mirror. 'You must be glad we're going home on Friday.'

'Oh, it can't come soon enough.'

'Do you miss him very much?' Sybil asked, curious to know more about Mary's relationship with Branson.

'Dreadfully. I miss him dreadfully,' Mary confessed, the weight of it pressing on her. 'I long to be with him again.'

Sybil gazed at her, opened her mouth to say something and then shut it again.

'What?' Mary said, not missing a thing.

'Oh, nothing.'

'No, say it, whatever you were going to say and then thought better of it.'

'I was just going to ask if you'd thought any more about how you and Branson could be together properly.'

Mary shook her head. 'I've thought about it every conceivable way I can, but I can't see any way to make that a possibility.'

Sybil chewed her lip. 'Don't you want to marry him?'

'Oh, Sybil, of course, I do. In an ideal world, I would marry him in a heartbeat if I could. If he were my equal or I was his. There'd be no question about it. I want what you've got. I want to be able to tell the world that I love him and he loves me, but no-one would react to that news the way they did to yours. Tom will never be good enough for me in the eyes of anyone in the family or in our social circles. They will never accept him.'

'I would. He's a good man and he makes you happy. That's all that matters to me,' Sybil said, earnestly.

Mary put her hand up, and Sybil reached over her shoulder and took it.

'Thank you, darling. That means such a lot to me,' Mary said, her voice breaking a little. 'But you're not Mama or Papa. They'd be horrified if I declared my love for the chauffeur. And can you imagine how Granny would react? It would be like the world had tipped upside down.'

'But, Mary, you love him,' Sybil said, her heart breaking for her sister.

'Yes, I do. But he's my impossible love, the one that can never be, not in the world we live in. The best I can hope for is that we can continue our affair undiscovered and that when I get my own household, I can take him with me.'

Sybil frowned, withdrawing her hand. 'What do you mean?'

Mary gazed at her defiantly in the mirror. 'I mean when I marry, I intend to take Tom with me to my new home, so we can keep seeing each other.'

'You mean… you'd marry someone else? Even though you're in love with Branson?' Sybil asked, her frown deepening.

'I don't really have a choice, Sybil. I need a husband if I'm to have a future, and it can't be Tom. I told you before, I can't be the wife of a chauffeur. I need to marry to secure a position. It won't be a love match, but I never expected it to be,' Mary said, laying it all out as she saw it. 'But I won't have to give Tom up if I take him with me.'

'So, you'd marry a man you didn't love and betray him with Branson?' Sybil asked, shocked.

'Well, yes, but really, I'd be more guilty of betraying Tom with my husband, wouldn't I? Because it's Tom I love, not this future husband of mine,' Mary said, sadly.

Sybil circled the stool and sank down on it beside her sister as Mary shuffled along to make room for her.

'But that's… that's awful,' she said, quietly.

Mary bristled, annoyed that Sybil – Sybil who had it all, the man she loved, a position to grow into – was criticising her for the position she found herself in. 'Are you condemning me for trying to make the most of a terrible situation?'

Sybil shook her head. 'No, I'm not. What I mean is how can any of you be happy like that? You or Tom or your future husband. How can that be fulfilling for any of you? Surely, whoever he is, he would expect you to love him, this man you plan to marry?'

'Probably,' Mary agreed.

'But you won't?'

'I might be fond of him, but I can't see how I could possibly love him like I love Tom,' Mary said, finding the idea completely unfathomable.

'And Branson would have to watch you marry this other man and live with him?'

'Yes,' Mary said, heavily.

Sybil pressed her lips together, thinking about that. 'But what about him? What if he wants to have children? Would you be happy to see him marry?'

'No, I'd hate it,' Mary said, honestly. 'I would loathe it. I would be jealous every second of every day if he married someone else.'

Sybil gave her a sideways look. 'But you expect him to watch you marry someone else and be content with it? You don't think he'd be jealous too?'

Mary shrugged. 'He might be, but he'd know that I didn't love my husband.'

'I'm not sure that would make it any easier for him, Mary. In fact, it might make it worse,' Sybil said, more astute than Mary might have hoped for one of her tender years.

'Perhaps if I could find a man to marry me who would otherwise be a confirmed bachelor,' Mary mused out loud. 'Tom would know then that there's nothing going on between us.'

'A confirmed bachelor?' Sybil echoed, puzzled. 'What does that mean?'

Mary glanced at her, feeling awkward. 'Like Thomas.'

'Thomas? Thomas the footman?'

'Yes.'

'Why is he a confirmed bachelor? He's only young and he's a footman. Perhaps he hasn't met the right woman yet.'

'There's never going to be a right woman for Thomas,' Mary said, delicately.

'That's a bit harsh, Mary,' Sybil said, shocked that her sister would say something so mean about one of their servants. 'Even you must admit that Thomas is very good-looking. I'm sure there will be plenty of ladies who would want to marry him.'

'I'm sure there will, but he won't want to marry them. Because he's a confirmed bachelor,' Mary said, willing Sybil to understand what she was saying. When her sister just stared at her in confusion, she sighed. 'Look, there are some men who are simply not interested in women, Sybil. They're not… um, attracted to women. They are attracted to other men.'

'Other men?' Sybil squawked, her eyes going wide. 'You mean that they'd want to, er, kiss other men?'

'Yes.'

'But surely you don't mean like I want to kiss Matthew, and you want to kiss Tom?'

'Yes. That's exactly what I mean,' Mary said, eyeing her sister cautiously.

Sybil stared at her, trying to absorb this new information. 'Goodness. Well, I… I… goodness.'

'So, if I could find a confirmed bachelor and persuade him to marry me, that might be the best thing all around. We could make a deal. He'd get the safety of having a wife, and I'd get to have Tom as my lover,' Mary said, beginning to think she might have cracked her problem with this new idea.

'Why would he need the safety of a wife, though, this confirmed bachelor of yours?' Sybil asked, quite perplexed about this whole thing. 'Why would he not just stay a bachelor?'

'Because people might talk about him. He's safer in a marriage.'

'Safer? Why?'

'Because men with men is frowned upon, Sybil. It's illegal.'

Sybil's eyes widened again. 'Oh.'

'Yes, so if a confirmed bachelor marries, he can point to his wife and claim that he's not like that,' Mary said, spelling it out for Sybil. 'It goes on a lot more than you think.'

'Does it?' Sybil asked, all round eyes. 'How do you know all this?'

'My friend, Alice – Alice Camberley, do you remember her? – anyway, she had an uncle who was a confirmed bachelor and then he married a woman quite unexpectedly, apparently after being caught in a compromising position with another gentleman,' Mary said, amused to see Sybil's eyes get even wider.

'Oh. Right,' Sybil managed, rather flabbergasted by all this new information she was learning tonight.

'So, back to my plan. If I find myself a confirmed bachelor to marry, Tom won't have to be jealous about me being intimate with him. Because it literally won't happen,' Mary said, the bits of her plan slotting together nicely.

Sybil frowned again. 'But don't you need to be intimate with your husband to have a child? Won't marrying a man like that mean you won't ever have children?'

Mary gave her a look, struck again by the innocence of her little sister. 'Oh, Sybil, darling, you are a funny little thing.'

'What? What have I said?' Sybil asked, indignantly.

'I can still have children, but they would be Tom's children,' Mary explained, patiently.

Sybil's hand flew to her mouth, trying to cover up her shock. 'You mean… you mean you would… you would be intimate with Branson instead?'

Mary said nothing, simply gazed at her sister, watching the penny drop.

'Oh, my goodness, you would, wouldn't you?'

'Yes, I would.'

'But… but… how… how would that even work?'

Mary raised an eyebrow. 'How would the intimacy work?'

'No! No!' Sybil squawked, flushing red. 'No, I mean, how would having children with a man who isn't your husband work? Surely, your husband would know. Would he want to bring up another man's child as his? What if there's a title involved? Wouldn't he want it to stay with his own flesh and blood? And what about Tom? Won't he want to be a father to his own children?'

Mary shrugged her shoulders, not sure of the intricacies of it herself. 'I don't know. I'd have to think about it more. Perhaps discuss it with Tom. Anyway, it's all hypothetical at the moment. I'm just thinking out loud.'

'Oh, Mary, what a tangled web you're weaving,' Sybil said, shaking her head.

Mary sighed, knowing how strange this all sounded. 'I'm trying to make the best of a bad situation, Sybil. I know it's not ideal, but I can't lose Tom, I can't. And if I can't marry him, this is the best I can come up with.'

'I still think you should encourage him to follow his passions and become a journalist or a politician. Mama and Papa may baulk at you marrying our chauffeur, but if he has a profession, it might be a different story.'

'I very much doubt that. Even if he became prime minister, he'd still be the man who once drove them around. Plus, his politics are very different to Papa's.' Mary looked up at Sybil and smiled. 'I can guarantee that if Tom ever did become prime minister, Papa would not have voted for him or his party.'

'No, I suspect that is true, I'll give you that,' Sybil agreed, thinking back to some of the political discussions she'd had with Branson. Suddenly, another thought struck her. 'He's Catholic, isn't he? Branson?'

'Yes.'

'Then won't he… might he not have a problem with being the lover of a married woman? I thought Catholics didn't go in for that sort of thing. He might not want to be intimate with you.'

Mary bit her lip, trying to suppress a smile. 'I don't think that will be a problem.'

'It might be. He might have very strong beliefs on the subject,' Sybil insisted. 'Have you asked him?'

'I don't need to.'

'Well, I think you should. If that's going to be your plan, you really should check with him first,' Sybil continued.

'Sybil, I don't need to check with him. I already know,' Mary said in exasperation and then stilled, realising what she'd just inadvertently admitted to her sister.

'But how do you know if – oh.' Sybil broke off as she suddenly understood what Mary was saying. She goggled at her, her eyes rounder than ever. 'Do you… have you… are you…'

Mary remained silent, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched her sister digest what she'd said.

'Have you already been, um, intimate with him?' Sybil asked, disbelief in her voice.

Still Mary said nothing, her eyes remaining firmly on Sybil, waiting for her reaction.

'Oh, I see. But… but you're not married,' Sybil said, faintly.

'No, but Pamuk had already ruined me for my wedding night, and I didn't want to think of him as my first lover,' Mary said, quietly. 'I wanted it to be someone I loved. I wanted it to be Tom.'

'Oh. Right. Well, um, yes, I suppose I can understand that,' Sybil said, still somewhat shocked by Mary's confession.

'You won't say anything to anyone, will you?' Mary asked urgently, reaching to cover Sybil's clasped hands with her own. 'I know it's not the done thing, but none of this thing with Tom is what you might call proper.'

'Of course, I won't tell anyone. I haven't breathed a word to anyone about you and Branson since I found out. Not even Anna,' Sybil said, somewhat indignantly.

'Thank you,' Mary said, breathing easier again.

Sybil looked at her curiously, once more chewing her lip. 'What's it like? Being intimate with a man?'

Mary hesitated and then couldn't stop the smile from breaking over her face. 'Oh, Sybil. It's wonderful. Really and truly wonderful. If Matthew is half as good at it as Tom is, you are in for a treat on your wedding night.'

Sybil stared at her, her eyes once more as round as saucers. 'Really?'

'Really.'

'Is it better than kissing?'

Mary grinned, unable to stop herself. 'It's so much better than kissing. Although you can kiss while you're doing it, too.'

'Oh, my,' Sybil said, swallowing hard.

'Indeed,' Mary agreed.

Sybil caught Mary's eye, her lips beginning to turn up in a wide smile, and then she started to giggle. For a few seconds, Mary tried to resist, but very quickly, she found herself joining in, relief that Sybil had not condemned her mixing with the giddy feeling that she would soon be reunited with Tom. Six days to go…